One Last Time
by a simple echo
Summary: Loosely based on a song of the same title.


One Last Time

Loosely based on a song I heard of the same title. I do not own that song; I do not own JQ. I was in a rather sad mood when I wrote this, so it is angsty.

_When she picked up the telephone, his voice came on the line._

_She said, "This can't be happening. . ."_

When Benton Quest opened his eyes, the first thing he realizes was that he was upside down. Where? What? He couldn't seem to form the thoughts completely. He tried to move—to shift his legs—and an intense pain shot up his left leg. It was in that moment that he began to feel. It was hard to breathe. A sharp pain slicing through his head, the steering wheel pressed tightly to his chest. His arm, God his arm burned with pain. Gingerly he raised it and although covered in blood, he could see the fragmented bone sticking through the skin. His stomach knotted and he pressed his forehead to the steering wheel. Something warm rushed down his face, blurring his vision, casting a crimson haze on the world. He wiped his face frantically with his good hand, and when he drew it back, he saw the blood—his blood—covering it.

What the Hell had happened, he wondered. Then he began to remember.

The windshield wipers needed to be change. Fat raindrops slapped against the glass, then smeared back and forth with the rhythmic movement of the blades. Benton Quest had sighed and clicked the radio off. He didn't need to add extra distraction. The last thing he wanted was to have to tell Race he had driven off road at 10:00 at night. Fortunately, the tires had great traction and he was only about an hour away from the house.

He had sincerely hoped Jessie would still be up when he got back. Benton has spent two hours discussing a marine research project and discovered that six of the world's leading authorities on aquatic life would be participating in a discussion at MIT in two weeks time. A small smile had graced his face as he thought of Jessie's reaction to the news that he managed to procure them an invitation.

In the distance, he had seen the faint glow of another car's headlights coming toward him. He slowed. Then the memories got blurry again. Did the car hit him? Come across the centerline? Did he swerve to miss? Over correct? He couldn't seem to put it all together. Did the other car just drive off? Not see the accident? He didn't know.

It was still pouring out; he could hear the rain pounding against the outside of the car. The sharp pounding in his head spread. His vision blurred and began to grow dark. He closed his eyes. He tried shaking his head to clear it, but all that did was intensify the pain and make him dizzy. Trying to breathe against the pressure in his chest, he forced himself to open his eyes. He needed help. He looked around until he saw his cell phone lying on the roof. Carefully, he stretched his good arm out for it. Pain shot up his side, and the nausea returned in full force. He wouldn't think of the pain. He wouldn't. Mentally, he forced it to the back of his mind, and with one last movement his fingers closed on the phone and flipped it open.

All the strength seemed to seep out of his body, and all he could do was push one button. It rang four times before a soft, feminine voice came on the line. "Hello?"

He had to drawn his breath twice before managing to croak out,"Jess?"

A short silence filled the airwaves. Finally, she said, "Dr. Quest? Is that you?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"Are you okay?" Concern had flooded her voice. His lungs felt like they were burning. He closed his eyes.

"No."

_As the tears fell from her eyes_

_She said "What am I supposed to do?_

_I can't handle losing you."_

_He said, "I just had to call and say goodbye._

_One last time."_

Jessie Bannon brushed her long red hair and deftly braided it. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of her microwave popcorn popping. Quickly, she pulled her nightgown on, and wrapped up in a soft, terry cloth bathrobe. She darted out of her room and downstairs. By the time she got to the kitchen, the smell of the popcorn had permeated the room. She loved it. She tapped her fingers impatiently against the countertop as she watched the bag in the microwave oven.

"Come on, come on," she muttered.

Jessie was happy. She had been waiting for this day for a long time. Once a year, her father would take the boys to some "guy thing." This year it was a massive monster truck rally in upstate New York. She referred the annual trip as "Male Grunt Fest," and always declined her father's invitation to join them, knowing full well that Jonny and Hadji didn't want her along. Although they all loved each other dearly, she understood that it was their time to be together. Usually, she and Dr. Quest worked in the lab or went to museums or something. It usually worked out well. This year however, Male Grunt Fest was scheduled for the same weekend Dr. Quest had a research project to attend to. The result was a joyful event she cannot remember ever having occurred.

She had the house to herself.

She had spent the day just enjoying herself. She had been swimming, rented a few movies, and ordered Chinese food for dinner. She loved not having to share the television remote control or having to debate the boys on what was for supper. She had even turned on the radio in six different rooms in the house so she could hear it everywhere she went. She was having a blast.

The timer on the microwave went off, and she quickly pulled the bag out. Tearing open the top, she dumped the contents into a white plastic bowl then went to the fridge to find something to drink.

Then the phone started ringing. She paused, contemplating her options. She could let whomever it was leave a message. But if her father were trying to call, there would be hell to pay if she didn't answer. Finally, she ran over and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

There was a long pause. Someone was gasping and she wondered if this might be an obscene phone call. Finally, she heard a soft, pained, "Jess?"

It took her a moment to identify the voice. Or at least she thought she identified it. "Dr. Quest?" She asked. "Is that you?"

"Yes."

She did not like this at all. A cold chill ran up her spine at the sound of his voice. "Are you okay?"

"No."

Her blood ran cold. "What happened? Where are you?"

"Car. Flipped." She could hear him struggling for breath between words. If she were with him, she would tell him not to talk. She would tell him to save his strength. But she was not there, so she needed to keep him talking.

"Oh. Okay. I can get you help. Just tell me where you are."

"Off. . .the. . .road."

"Okay. Okay. Don't panic. I'll see if the computers can locate you."

"Probably not. The storm. It's bad," Dr. Quest began to cough. Jessie trembled as she heard him groan in pain. She moved quickly to the computer and began to type a series of commands, all the while balancing the phone on her shoulder. After a scant moment, the machine beeped at her. Damn it, she thought. He was right. He was always right. Still listening to him, she went in search of her cell phone.

When his coughing subsided, she started asking questions. What did he see? Where was he hurt?

She fought a wave of panic when he told her the steering wheel was pining him in place, and strongly suspected he was understating his injuries when he told her he thought his arm "might be broken."

"Do you have any idea where you are? What was the last road you turned off of?"

"Highway. Onto Johnson St. I wanted to take a short cut," he chuckled faintly. "I wanted to tell you. . .to tell you."

"Johnson St," she said. "You're less than an hour away."

Locating her cell phone, she quickly dialed 911 and told the operator what she knew thus far. She heard Dr. Quest ask her if she was talking to him.

"No. I'm on with 911 on my cell phone. The police will start looking for you on Johnson St."

"It's a long road."

"I know. But it's a start."

He was quiet for a minute. "I wanted to tell you. . .I wanted to take you to Boston. Discussion on Marine life. I thought you would like it."

Jessie's heart warmed for a moment. Even now he wasn't thinking of himself.

"Jonny or Hadji will take you," he whispered. Something in the way he said it made her shudder and the panicked feeling settled deep into her stomach.

Tears began to form in her eyes. "I. . .I want you to take me."

"Oh, honey. I won't be able to."

_He said "there are some things in this life that are out of our control..."_

"I want you to take me," Jessie said. Benton could hear her voice breaking, and she sounded about ten years younger. In his mind, he could see the eight-year-old girl with her red hair tied loosely into a ponytail. He could see her playing with his boys, helping him in the lab. Suddenly, she was fifteen and they were in South America. She had made a rubbing of an amulet, and has told him she had learned it from him.

He loved her like she was his own child. "Oh, honey. I won't be able to."

And it was the truth. He knew it.

"Dr. Quest. . ." She whispered.

"Shhhh," his legs began to lose feeling, and he noticed that suddenly, he wasn't hurting as much.

_She said, "the boys won't understand."_

_He said, "Tell them that I love them_

_And be strong."_

"Shhhh," he whispered. "I need you to listen for a minute, okay?" He paused briefly. "I love you, child. Like you were mine. I have to ask you. . .I need you. I need you to take care of my boys."

Jessie couldn't speak. Tears ran down her face. She leaned back against a wall, and her legs gave out. She slid to the floor.

"They need you, Jessie," he continued. "And they will need you more now. Please. Promise me."

She sniffled, and rubbed her hand across her nose. "I. . .I will. I'll make sure everything is taken care of until you get out of the hospital and. . ."

Through the phone connection, she could hear sirens. "Do you hear them?" She cried. "They're almost there! You'll be okay, just hold on for a few more minutes. They'll find you and everything will be okay."

He didn't answer. "Dr. Quest?"

After a moment, she heard him say, "Honey, I've got to go."

"NO! Don't you dare hang up! You can't," she was sobbing in earnest now, wishing he was safe. Wishing her father was here. Praying. "We can't, I can't lose you!"

It was almost like she felt him leave. She cried out "Can you still hear me?!" 

_She fell down on the kitchen floor as the signal died. _

_One last time._


End file.
